My red stilettos spread to opposite ends of a polished oak desk, feeling a layer of goosebumps shudder across my body as I look across the lecture hall that reverberates every gasp and sigh from my parted glossy lips. Although we’re alone I feel a rush for each moan that could ring across the corridors, for each slip of my leggings down the polished oak desk and every gentle breeze from the open windows. I pace my dark red nails across his bobbing curly hair, tracing my way down from my cut down bumps to the jet black stripe that grows into a brown shade as it leads to my pussy. The longer his tongue swirls my clit into an itching pleasure spiral the more I loose control, I’m pretty sure that I lost my knickers and lanyard in the mess but I couldn’t care less. He ceases and looks up at me, “Am I doing good Mrs MacKie”, I only respond by pushing the back of his head into me.